2 Left Feet, 1 More Dance (4 of ?)
anonymous
March 28 2009, 05:39:45 UTC
A/N: Fuck, slow anon is also apparently the sappiest person on the earth and therefore failed at everything. Anon hopes this was somehow still enjoyable -
“Um, well…” Canada hesitated, his eyebrows turning upward sheepishly behind his glasses. “You don’t have to, Cuba.”
“NOW you don’t wanna dance?” The island nation stared at the other unbelievingly. “Look I ain’t letting you bring those moves back to your people without some kind of instruction on a real Cuban dance.”
“Eeh…we… we don’t have any music-”
Cuba furrowed his brows in concentration and he promptly took the other nation’s shoulders, shifting his companion into a proper position and ignoring the slight yelp of surprise Canada let out. If he was going to export something from this impromptu excursion then it wouldn’t be something poorly put together!
‘Now what to teach… How about- nah. Wait, why the hell not?’ Cuba thought randomly.
The Salsa was a complicated partner dance if one had no experience, but not necessarily difficult to learn. It involved a lot of turns and swaying steps that was characteristic of the former Spanish colony. It seemed like Canada didn’t have too much experience though, because as Cuba instructed the other on the beginning manoeuvres, the northern nation was clumsy and managed to step all over Cuba’s sandaled feet.
‘WHAT! He’s doin’ this on purpose!!’ The larger man internally raged, wondering if he was somehow being tricked. The thought didn’t stay for long though, when he caught the sheepish and apologetic expression on the other man’s face.
Canada was just wearing some comfy loafers… how the hell did it hurt so much?! He supposed the northern nation was stronger than he looked, though he’d rather it didn’t get shown this way.
After a while though, the other nation was actually starting to get the hang of it and was soon keeping up with the basic steps.
Eventually they stopped yelling and began going through the motions with more grace. The inevitable quiet that had descended over the hotel suites’ beachfront was contagious, so the rest of the lesson ended up continuing in more hushed tones. The effect was almost drowsy, making the pair start to take their steps more slowly, and it was enough to distract Canada into think about other things than his two left feet.
When Canada had taken the other country up on his offer to see more of his house he’d had no idea he would end up… dancing with him… of all things. Canada had had a lot to drink it was true, but he was still a LONG way off from being completely buzzed, and it was getting difficult to fight off the blush that wanted to tinge his skin every time Cuba would rest his hand briefly on his back or grip his palm more firmly.
Cuba didn’t really notice when the blond became silent, continuing to count out the beats under his breath, nodding to himself in satisfaction when the rhythm was successfully kept.
It was strange to be doing something like this with the other nation, though he couldn’t say it was entirely unpleasant…
Cuba turned Canada and tugged him for the next set of moves. The northern nation stumbled unexpectedly at the pull and his soft body crashed lightly against Cuba’s. The sudden contact sent a jolt through the dreadlock-haired man’s stomach and the island nation held completely still when a warm arm came up to hook around his neck.
“Ah, sorry,” Canada apologized needlessly, and leaned forward to rest his chin comfortably on Cuba’s shoulder, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I guess I’m not very good at this.” He mumbled out in a voice that was a bit husky.
Cuba immediately felt his face grow warm.
‘W-what.’ He thought unsurely.
That one springy hair on the slimmer nation’s head was tickling his cheek and Cuba hastily cleared his throat. “It ain’t- It’s fine, let’s try it again.”
“Okay.” Canada mercifully pulled himself back and Cuba could finally relax, but his stomach still tingled in… in…
‘Damn it.’ Cuba cursed internally. Who was he fooling? Not himself anymore that was for sure.
-
“Um, well…” Canada hesitated, his eyebrows turning upward sheepishly behind his glasses. “You don’t have to, Cuba.”
“NOW you don’t wanna dance?” The island nation stared at the other unbelievingly. “Look I ain’t letting you bring those moves back to your people without some kind of instruction on a real Cuban dance.”
“Eeh…we… we don’t have any music-”
Cuba furrowed his brows in concentration and he promptly took the other nation’s shoulders, shifting his companion into a proper position and ignoring the slight yelp of surprise Canada let out. If he was going to export something from this impromptu excursion then it wouldn’t be something poorly put together!
‘Now what to teach… How about- nah. Wait, why the hell not?’ Cuba thought randomly.
The Salsa was a complicated partner dance if one had no experience, but not necessarily difficult to learn. It involved a lot of turns and swaying steps that was characteristic of the former Spanish colony. It seemed like Canada didn’t have too much experience though, because as Cuba instructed the other on the beginning manoeuvres, the northern nation was clumsy and managed to step all over Cuba’s sandaled feet.
‘WHAT! He’s doin’ this on purpose!!’ The larger man internally raged, wondering if he was somehow being tricked. The thought didn’t stay for long though, when he caught the sheepish and apologetic expression on the other man’s face.
Canada was just wearing some comfy loafers… how the hell did it hurt so much?! He supposed the northern nation was stronger than he looked, though he’d rather it didn’t get shown this way.
After a while though, the other nation was actually starting to get the hang of it and was soon keeping up with the basic steps.
“Erm, so I move this way?”
“Yeah but- ARGH!”
“Sorry!!”
“Never mind… 1, 2, 3, 4… 1, 2- don’t forget your foot!”
Eventually they stopped yelling and began going through the motions with more grace. The inevitable quiet that had descended over the hotel suites’ beachfront was contagious, so the rest of the lesson ended up continuing in more hushed tones. The effect was almost drowsy, making the pair start to take their steps more slowly, and it was enough to distract Canada into think about other things than his two left feet.
When Canada had taken the other country up on his offer to see more of his house he’d had no idea he would end up… dancing with him… of all things. Canada had had a lot to drink it was true, but he was still a LONG way off from being completely buzzed, and it was getting difficult to fight off the blush that wanted to tinge his skin every time Cuba would rest his hand briefly on his back or grip his palm more firmly.
Cuba didn’t really notice when the blond became silent, continuing to count out the beats under his breath, nodding to himself in satisfaction when the rhythm was successfully kept.
It was strange to be doing something like this with the other nation, though he couldn’t say it was entirely unpleasant…
Cuba turned Canada and tugged him for the next set of moves. The northern nation stumbled unexpectedly at the pull and his soft body crashed lightly against Cuba’s. The sudden contact sent a jolt through the dreadlock-haired man’s stomach and the island nation held completely still when a warm arm came up to hook around his neck.
“Ah, sorry,” Canada apologized needlessly, and leaned forward to rest his chin comfortably on Cuba’s shoulder, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I guess I’m not very good at this.” He mumbled out in a voice that was a bit husky.
Cuba immediately felt his face grow warm.
‘W-what.’ He thought unsurely.
That one springy hair on the slimmer nation’s head was tickling his cheek and Cuba hastily cleared his throat. “It ain’t- It’s fine, let’s try it again.”
“Okay.” Canada mercifully pulled himself back and Cuba could finally relax, but his stomach still tingled in… in…
‘Damn it.’ Cuba cursed internally. Who was he fooling? Not himself anymore that was for sure.
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